Sex and the City meets the Dalai Lama. Buns and Marty use their lively escapades to ignite an authentic inquiry into themselves ... an emotionally-naked exposé baring all.
Their keen observations of life’s twists and turns will inspire you to use your obstacles as a path to your heart’s desire.

Sunday, June 9, 2013

A Breeze of Space

I know I am a little late for spring cleaning but hey, our summer
has been procrastinating and so have I. Or at least that’s what I told myself. Truly the
task simply seemed too daunting. This
weekend, with Buns leading the charge, we tackled my guest room.

Frightening,
overwhelming and I never could have done it on my own. I know I would have
slumped to the floor, covered my face with my hands and shaking my head whined
in a melodramatic impression of Camille, I can’t, I simply can’t.

With Buns taking charge, encouraging me to take focused baby
steps and only look at one thing at a time, we began. The piles grew and spread
down the stairs, into my living room and finally out the front door. I met my
inner hoarder. I think we all have one it’s just the flavor of what we hold
onto that varies from person to person.

For me it was all about the spoken word…books to be precise.
Unless I am giving the book away to someone who will love it, I feel duty bound
to give it lodging until such time as this person appears. That’s a lot of waiting.
That’s a lot of books. And my need to
preserve learning extends to every paper I have ever written, every light bulb
moment scribbled on a napkin when inspiration struck while at some late night
bistro, any information that I have collected that I just knew would be helpful
for someone… someday.

In the explosion of chaotic
dismantling I find a huge file of correspondence from my ex love. It was behind
my dresser right beside my bed!!! Oh my! Just a little contradictory I would
say. Feng Shui love altar in one corner to invite a new amour into my life and
a trove of love laden words from the past nestled by my pillow.

I told myself that I
was keeping it in case I wanted to write a novel one day. Mmm…maybe …but it was
the good in goodbye that really had me hooked. He shared his heart on paper and
I was still holding it. His words spoke of a love so rich and sweet that in
retrospect I realize I have never allowed a man to touch me so deeply.

Was I loved well? No. It was volatile and at times painful.

Deeply…ahhh yes!I
recognized his soul and it felt like he knew mine.

Memories can be tricky. I do very well letting go of the bad ones, it’s
the stellar extraordinary moments that I hold onto. And yet love doesn’t want
to be confined, not in a picture frame or a box, no matter how pretty the
ribbon that dresses it up. Holding on to
the past leaves no space for the universe to enter and surprise you in the
present. It seems only logical that we
need to empty in order to fill and my nurturing these memories only limited my
opening to the future.

I really let it land inside me…holding onto to
something, even if it was good may be the reason I don’t have something better.

The calling to let go translates on many levels. Trusting
that the books will find new homes on their own. Trusting that I can
accept the love in my past story and still live in the love of today. It is what I cultivate in this moment that will
invite future connection.

I give myself a time line and a promise to create a ritual
of letting go. When Buns and I have talked of travel to Italy, to the Amalfi
Coast I shared how covering ourselves with words, then diving into the sea,
letting the water wash us free and clean could be a perfect ritual for the shedding
of the old and embracing the new.

Perhaps
I will cover myself in his name, mixing the salt of tears with the intention to dissolve. Dramatic, yes I know. What can I say? One must
be true to one’s nature.

For now I will bask in the current feeling of being loved.
Not because of the sentiments of a glorious past love affair but because it is
true. And the proof that we are loved is evident every day if one is open to
seeing it.

My proof today is having a friend who offers to give up her
Saturday to help me clear out debris, lift heavy boxes and champion living
unfettered.

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How it all began

Our sons were friends. Like brothers really. We mothers had never met but both our guys kept saying we should. Then Duncan passed away. It was through Marty's support of Buns' grieving her son that a deep friendship was forged.

Duncan inspired us. If his life, at 22, could get snuffed out like that, without any warning, then why wouldn't we live each day to the max ... grateful for every second, whether mundane or profound?

Really, we're not interested in writing just about the happy times. We are interested in also using the pain, the sorrow, the disappointments -- the realities of life -- to stretch and grow.

Inherent in everything that happens, at the heart of it lies love. Sometimes it doesn't look like love. We have to go through all the layers of ourselves authentically and feel them in order to reveal that essence.

But hey. It's not all serious. We have a blast. We go blindly into spontaneous adventures that some might consider reckless (Marty's word), or random (Buns' word), but regardless, whatever it is we are doing, we are awake and choosing to live out loud.

If you want to catch all the glorious details of the Buns and Marty escapades, you can start with our first post under Blog Archive (November 2010 -- Today has already been amazing -- and read the posts from bottom to top).

A BUNS & MARTY UPDATE!

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